My Rider

As a freelance cartoonist, I get invited to a lot of important events, and therefore my legal team and I have developed a standard contract for these occasions. Should you need my services, just print this out and follow the instructions.

Rider for Zachary Kanin, Professional Humorist

Thank you for your interest in my attendance at your event/party/concert. I would be delighted to attend/party/perform, but as with all persons of my status (cartoonist, television enthusiast) I have a few ground rules/requirements/conditions that must be adhered to/fulfilled/met. Please review the following, double-sign, and send one copy to my manager, with whom you have already been in touch, and one copy to my personal archivist, with whom you will never come into contact, unless you visit my personal library, in which case you are sure to meet Susan, my archivist, as she is the only present staff member.

List of terms and conditions:

There is no need to arrange for transportation from my residence to the airport, as I will walk. However, it is advisable to provide a car to follow close behind me, in case I forget what I am doing and walk home.

I want to fly on a regular commercial airliner, but I want my seat facing backwards and in the middle of the aisle so I can keep an eye on everyone.

When the plane lands, the pilots should applaud me. Only then can everyone else be untied from his or her chair.

Waiting at the airport I want three drivers holding signs with my name on them, so that they fight over who gets to drive me. I should also be dressed like a driver at this time, to add a little levity to what will surely be a horrible public display of violence.

I despise sycophancy, so at the hotel everyone should just treat me normally, and speak only in the past tense. So, instead of saying “Sleep well,” and “Don’t drink too much tonight, God save your soul,” they will say, “You slept well,” and “You didn’t drink too much, God saved your soul.”

The blankets should be a patchwork of overcoats, shawls, and purses so I can pretend I’m going to sleep in the coatroom of a fancy party.

There should be enough glasses filled with varying amounts of water that if a mallet were provided I would be able to play Beethoven’s Ninth on them. (N.B. DO NOT provide a mallet. I need my sleep.)

When I arrive, the previous guests should still be there and I would like them to insist that they have the room for another day.

Hats. I need a place to dispose of my many hats.

I want you to plug a surge protector into the wall. Then, plug five surge protectors into the surge protector. Then plug five more surge protectors into each of those surge protectors and so on. Now I’m making you money.

For lunch I want hot soup, suspended one foot in the air, sans bowl.

Let’s go back to travel for a second. The in-flight movie must be 1998’s “Naughty Office.” It is a movie where fully clothed professionals silently give their seated co-workers shoulder rubs, for four-and-a-half hours.

Some people cry themselves to sleep. I want a room full of those people.

All of the red M&M’s must be removed from the bowls and bowls of M&M’s I eat every morning or else I won’t get out of bed. Also, the ampersand should be replaced with a dollar sign, so that every M&M is now an M$M. This should be the case for all M$M’s in the world, not just the ones I eat. You watch—it is a good business move.

Lots of flowers. But please, no smells.

There needs to be a baby-grand piano in the room so I can lounge sing myself to sleep.

There also needs to be a mechanical bull in the room because I have always wanted to see if a piano can ride a mechanical bull. My money is on “yes.”

Quick question: is there any mahogany on stage? That was a trick question. I have mahogany contact lenses. You’ll get the hang of this.

I’m going to need a bucket full of sardines to throw out into the crowd. Any crowd will do.

I have a serious gambling problem. Do not allow anyone to take money from me if I start betting on something stupid. Unless I win. Then they should give me their money. I think the risk is what I find so exhilarating.

Two guns. One for shootin’. and one for marryin’.

I want a martini waiting for me under the couch. This way, when I’m checking out and looking to see if I left anything under the couch—voilà, there is a free martini. Also, leave a hundred martinis in plain sight.

A hero’s burial.

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